


Love the Mind, Enjoy the Body

by lockedin221b



Series: Tied Up With String [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Bondage, Christmas, Confessions, Consent, Consentacles, Double Anal Penetration, Double Oral Penetration, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Multiple Penetration, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Sexual Content, Sounding, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of genitals, Sherlock has tentacles. John is surprisingly okay with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love the Mind, Enjoy the Body

**Author's Note:**

> ghostfucks wanted tentacle!Sherlock, multiple penetration, multiple orgasms, and willing participants
> 
> I've just been waiting for a request to write tentacle porn. Not gonna lie, been wanting to try it.

It was definitely one of those hangovers where John wished desperately he could have drunk just a little more, if only to forget the previous night. Instead, head pounding, he remembered all too clearly the end to Christmas Eve in 221B Baker Street. He remembered walking out of the kitchen as Sherlock was headed to bed. He remembered bumping into him, remembered giggling while he pointed up at the mistletoe Mrs. Hudson always insisted on hanging, and he remembered pecking Sherlock on the cheek before making his way up to bed.

John really wasn’t sure if he wanted Sherlock to be up and about when he went downstairs, but he was. He sat at the desk in the sitting room, typing away at his laptop. Of course, he had barely had a single drink the whole night. He would have a perfect memory of what had happened. He would also notice the slight flush in John’s cheeks as John tried to walk casual to the kitchen and avoid so much as acknowledging the mistletoe that still hung there.

When John re-emerged with a cup of his strongest tea and a couple pieces of toast, Sherlock was waiting and watching him. “Morning,” John said as he sat across from Sherlock.

“Allow me to alleviate your distress,” Sherlock said, ever blunt. “Your actions last night were—charming—and I am not upset by them. I chalk it up to inebriation mixed with underlying desires you would not have otherwise acted upon, and am fully content to leave it at that.”

John should have felt relieved, and part of him did, but he was also annoyed. “So glad I haven’t disturbed your inner peace,” he muttered and bit into his toast.

“Why are you upset?”

John had to wait to finish his bite before he could answer, which at least kept him from snapping. “It’s one thing when you’re on a case or trying to impress, but you really don’t have to deduce every little thing. Sometimes us normal people like to speak for ourselves.”

“I was merely attempting-”

“To alleviate my distress, right.” John finished his toast and half his tea before he spoke again. “Can I ask you something? Personal.”

Sherlock actually closed his laptop. “Of course.”

“Are you asexual?”

“No.”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “John-”

“Because I’m not as unobservant as you think. I’ve caught you staring at me on more than one occasion. Only, I can’t figure out if it’s because you’re attracted to me, or for some less typical, more you reason.”

Sherlock folded his hands on his laptop and leant back. “The answer would depend on which incident to which you are referring.”

“In other words, sometimes one, sometimes the other.”

Sherlock nodded.

John sat back in his chair with a sigh. “I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“We’re both attracted to each other. I know you say you’re married to your work, but, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m involved in a lot of that work. A shift to the romantic and sexual wouldn’t change much about our day-to-day-”

“Are you still drunk?”

John grinned. “How’s it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“To be analysed?”

Sherlock blinked in surprise.

“So I’ve put more thought into this than I care to admit, and last night kind of pushed me over the edge. It’s not that I don’t respect your decision; I just wish I understood it.”

“Would you like an answer?”

“Please.”

“Each of my past lovers have found my body, once the initial novelty of things wore off, repulsive.”

John stared for a moment before grunting, “Huh?”

“I am, physically speaking, abnormal.”

“Are we talking about your prick?”

“In a way, yes.”

John shook his head. “No, still lost.”

“Perhaps seeing would help you understand.”

“Are you offering me a peep show?”

Sherlock gave him a hard look.

John held up his hands. “Sorry, bad timing for that joke.”

“Would you like to see what I’m talking about?”

“Frankly, yes, because I’m still beyond confused.”

Sherlock stood and motioned for John to follow. They went through to Sherlock’s room, where Sherlock began untying his pyjama bottoms. He pushed them and his boxer shorts down below his crotch.

There was no penis to speak of. In fact, there was nothing John recognised as human genitalia whatsoever to speak of. Instead, Sherlock’s groin sported perhaps a dozen differently sized appendages each coiled tightly against Sherlock’s body.

When John found his voice again, he said, “Are those-”

“Tentacles, yes. That is the most accurate word to describe them.”

“How-”

“Birth defect. My parents opted out of turning their youngest son into a lab rat, so all I know is what I’ve discovered over the course of my life.”

“Huh.”

“I admit, yours is the calmest reaction I’ve ever received.”

“Quite honestly, I’m trying to figure out if I’m still asleep.”

“You’re not.”

“Right.”

Sherlock pulled up his shorts and pyjamas.

“So that’s your reason? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good reason—to be hesitant, careful. Especially since you make it sound like it hasn’t exactly been met with resounding applause in the past. Is that really a reason to say no forever, though?”

“I find it keeps everyone more comfortable, even if the other party is unaware.”

“Then explain this: I still really want to be with you.”

Sherlock stiffened. “Perhaps now, but when the novelty-”

“It’s not about novelty, Sherlock. It’s weird, plain and simple. I’m not saying this to jump on the train to strange and kinky. I’m saying I’m this close to being flat out in love with you, and after years of dealing with the oddities and off-putting parts of your personality, physical oddities aren’t about to derail me.”

Sherlock, for once, looked completely at a loss for words.

John took a chance and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s skinny waist. “I am neither turned on or turned off by what you’ve got there. Curious? Sure. But I still want you the same as I wanted you ten minutes ago.”

Sherlock finally relaxed with a sigh. “You never cease to amaze me, John Watson.”

“Yeah, well, I’m amazing.”

Sherlock grasped John’s shoulders suddenly and looked at John with almost juvenile excitement. “I want to make you feel amazing. Will you let me?” 

“Don’t I even get a kiss first?”

Sherlock kissed him. His lips were soft, up until the moment Sherlock made the kiss a hard one, pushing his tongue into John’s mouth with vigour.

John hugged Sherlock against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Sherlock broke the kiss and lowered his lips to John’s ear. “I want to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

John groaned. “Christ, Sherlock, it’s not even noon.”

“It’s Christmas. Neither of us has anywhere to be.”

“And oh what a Christmas it is,” John chuckled. He stepped back and held out his arms. “Alright, Sherlock Holmes, I’m all yours.”

Sherlock hesitated, though. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Sherlock instantly shed his dressing gown and pulled off his tee.

John discarded his own pyjamas, and soon they stood completely bare before each other. “Sorry,” John teased. “Boring cock on my end.”

Sherlock reached out and caressed John’s prick. “It’s a lovely cock.”

John shuddered. Then he watched in awe as Sherlock’s tentacles unfurled.

There were different lengths and girths. The longer, thicker ones—about as thick as Sherlock’s wrists—moved slower but with more precision. The smaller, narrower ones appeared to grow slick before John’s eyes

“What is that?”

“The closest comparison I can make is pre-ejaculate. Were I female, I would say it was akin to natural lubricant.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock cupped his cheek and lifted his face. “Lay down.”

John obliged.

Sherlock spread John’s legs apart with his hands before settling on his knees between them. A tentacle stroked John’s cheek. John made a point to lean into the touch, at the same time smiling up at Sherlock.

After that, the thicker tentacles began curling around John’s thighs and arms, one around his waist, another cradling the back of his neck. His heart raced, but he gave Sherlock a reconfirming nod.

One of the thinner, slick tentacles wrapped around John’s prick. The very tip prodded into John’s urethra, and he inhaled sharply at the sensation. He nearly missed the fact that he was being lifted clear off the bed.

“Strong,” was all he could manage to huff.

“Their strength is underutilized.”

“We’ll have to change that.”

Sherlock smiled as another of the slippery tentacles pushed its way down John’s cleft to his hole, where it began gently squirming its way into John.

“Oh my god!” At least, that’s what John would have cried out had his words not been muffled by a slick tentacle plunging its way into his mouth. On a whim, John closed his mouth around it and gave it a suck.

Sherlock groaned. “N-no one’s ever—god, John.”

John smiled around the tentacle before sucking again.

By then, the tentacle in John’s arse had stretched John to its full girth. An unexpected second joined it, and John moaned around the tentacle in his mouth. The one around his cock began to squeeze and stroke him. It quickly became apparent that the second ten tacle in his arse had a single purpose: John’s prostate. It moved in and out of John with little, firm thrusts. It wasn’t long before John was trembling, and, soon after, coming.

Sherlock lowered John gently back onto the bed and removed one tentacle after another. He leaned over John and stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. “How did it feel?”

“I don’t think ‘amazing’ cuts it,” John said, still breathing heavily. “What about you?”

“You felt wonderful.”

John frowned and lifted himself up on his forearms. “I’m assuming you can orgasm.”

“Of course.”

“Did you?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not? I mean, can I help?”

Sherlock pressed his fingers over John’s mouth. “One of the drawbacks is an absurdly long refractory period. I want to make you feel good again, if you’ll let me.”

“If I’ll-” John dropped back onto the bed. “Of course I’ll bloody let you. It’s just, I’m feeling a bit…”

Sherlock grimaced. “Used?”

“No! God, no. Use me. Please, if that’s how you’re going to use me, use me.” John grinned a little embarrassedly at his sudden disclosure. “No, I’m feeling selfish. So what if you have a long refractory period? You deserve to feel good, too. Especially after doing that to me. Christ.”

Sherlock settled down at John’s side, a few of his tentacles trailing lazily on various parts of John’s body. “I’ll reach my own orgasm eventually,” Sherlock assured him. “When I’m done using you.”

John turned his head to look at Sherlock and grinned. “I declare this the best Christmas ever. Perhaps the best day ever.”

“I hope not. I want to be able to top it in the future.”

For the next several hours, Sherlock brought John to orgasm again and again. They tried something a little different each time, particularly with how Sherlock would hold John. Sometimes John would be splayed on the mattress as Sherlock fucked him; other times he would be hung in the air, the only tentacles keeping him raised around his waist, his limbs left dangling. As tea approached, Sherlock finally declared the next would be their last—for the time being—and John would be able to see what happened when he reached his own orgasm.

John was exhausted, but he was still thoroughly enjoying himself. He still sucked the tentacles Sherlock put into his mouth, and occasionally he would even rock back against the ones up his arse if he had the right purchase.

Once John started getting hard yet again, Sherlock changed from his usual positions either next to John or between his legs. This time around, he straddled John’s waist. Only then did John notice one of the tentacles was wrapped under Sherlock’s crotch.

“When?” John gaped.

“I’ve had it in me for the last two rounds.” Sherlock smiled. A tentacle wrapped around John’s cock, gently encouraging his erection. Another slipped back inside John’s arse.

For the finale, as it were, Sherlock spread John out on the bed. With his incredibly strong, more appendages-like tentacles, he pinned wrists and ankles to the corners of the mattress.

John was slower to reach complete erection by then, but eventually Sherlock got him there, as he always did. The tentacle wrapped underneath him came forward, dripping. Sherlock used his hands to spread his own arse and lowered himself onto John’s cock.

As soon as John began to moan, a tentacle was in his mouth. Like Pavlov’s dog, he sucked. Tentacles wrapped around his thighs, stroking and squeezing in intervals. There were three that now penetrated his arse.

“Don’t worry, John,” Sherlock panted as he began to rock himself up and down on John’s cock. “I won’t last long either at this point.”

Neither of them did. John was already close again when he finally got to witness Sherlock climax. Sherlock brought himself down onto John’s cock with a particularly vigorous shove. Then his back arched and a strangled cry escaped his throat. Each of his smaller, self-lubricating tentacles went still and swelled. Then they began to ooze from the same pores that produced their slickness. What now began to cover these tentacles looked, and tasted in John’s mouth, every bit like typical come. It was only the production and expulsion that was abnormal.

With Sherlock’s arse tight around his cock and the tentacles swollen inside him, combined with the incredible sight before him, John came. There wasn’t much to it, after however many times Sherlock had made him come that day, but this time had a particular satisfaction to it.


End file.
